


Violent and pale

by lilivi56



Category: Original Work
Genre: Body Horror, Mermaids, graphic depictions of turning into a mermaid, speculation about why the ocean makes me feel such visceral and intimate terror, that's the word i'm looking for
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-03-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:22:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23316106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilivi56/pseuds/lilivi56
Summary: With dim pupils still turned upwards, you become part of an unforgivable abyss you once called home, and you are no longer human.
Kudos: 4





	Violent and pale

The moon, a silent goddess in a silent sky, casts empyreal light over all she sees.

Do not fear the feeling of being watched. The one who watches is benevolent in nature and curious in spirit; she means you no harm.

Her eyes catch fleeting moments of similarly fleeting humans- trysts of ill-fated lovers, obsessions of ill-intentioned romantics, and ill-hidden secrets meant not for the eyes of humans to behold. Filled with detached curiosity, she finds your pale feet stepping lightly above the faded grey sand, yet she sees no prints left behind. She questions if you had even let your limbs touch the earth to begin with. Her mind is no stranger to curiosity, however, the sensation hollowing out her subconscious mind is too foreign for her to harbor anything but fear.

Fear for you, or fear for what this means- none can tell, not even the moon herself.

Surely, if she could see what took place underneath the tumultuous surface of unearthly grey waters, she would plead for blindness. What a sin it would be, to take away from the moon that which she treasures above all.

You blink; what a sin indeed.

Translucent silk shivers in the fingers of an ocean breeze, momentarily brushing against your mid-forearm and revealing the prominent shadows of your exposed clavicle. Your steps pause for a brief moment, leaving the moon to wonder if it is hesitation, or perhaps fear, she sees hidden in the steeled determination of your faded eyes. Rustling silk sends a sigh into an otherwise silent night, falling upon no ears but your own. As opalescent skin stands unveiled to the sky, the nakedness brings bubbling forth a novel feeling of vulnerability, threatening to overtake your resolve.

Helplessness fades as you place a solitary foot into shallow and mercurial waters.

You recall that, since the beginning of time, these murky, teal depths have desperately sought to devour the shoreline. The ocean always will be and always has been filled with an insatiable hunger.

The sea is vast, unfulfilled, and so very full of covetousness; beware of the avarice that brought you here.

Enduringly patient foam struggles against inexhaustible amounts of sand, absorbing the shore a single grain at a time. Your soul remembers that yearning- the constant ache enveloping every area of your soul.

Your soul remembers that hunger, for you once were driven by that very greed permeating the dark parts of the abyss. You also once needed to devour every grain of sand, every blade of grass, and every inch of the sky.

You feel missing pieces and unfilled holes, yet you forget where they came from.

As the water laps at your shins, something in the back of your mind whispers a warning: "ignore that familiar harrowing groan in your stomach, its ache in your soul is a timeless and malevolent force."

You press on with your shoulders thrown back and head held high, ornamental eyes shining resolutely in the evanescent glow of an unearthly night. It will not be the last time you feel the stars, you hope, but nonetheless, you drink in the sky so as to never thirst for it. Even if your soul were to reach the surface again, you do not want to forget what it tastes like to stand as a human underneath an indigo void painted with splattered pricks of sharp light.

As you stride forwards, the mouth of the water caresses the skin on your thighs, confused and speculative.

You have changed since birth, but the ocean remembers its firstborn.

Nostalgia tickles your stomach, rising out of your throat in the form of a contented sigh. You long to remember what it is you are leaving behind, as well as what you are returning to. Cool air burns on your exposed skin, and the view of glossy light over grey water flickers in and out of your vision- a candle struggling to stay aflame in the wind. Warm skin on your breast meets cold and unforgiving waters; it leaves tiny footprints manifested as tiptoed marks of gooseflesh.

Why do you listen to the siren's song? Why do you respond to the hollow beckoning calls of the ocean's abomination?

At that moment, you stare upwards at the moon, wishing for a longer field of any vision necessary to see the answer. The ocean, temperamental as it is, does not hold the answer you seek. Even so, there is nowhere else left to search.

The ocean's hands ghost over your pulse, tenderly stroking the thin layer of milky flesh above your iridescent veins. You point your eyes skyward, careful to not let them meet the ocean's innumerable ones. It is not up to you what happens next, so take comfort in the envy you have for the once all-encompassing view of the moon's eyes. 

The physical embodiment of rapacious desire has stolen from the moon's gaze, and you mourn for the inimical sin your forbearer has committed. 

What a sin indeed.

The sensation of limbs begins to fade, and you are suddenly aware that you have made a choice that you cannot undo.

The ever-present fog in your eyes disappears for a brief moment; you watch as the moon blinks slowly at your fading body. While your eyes once again mist over, remnants of a laugh fall from your pale petaled lips, and a short ghost of a smile follows suit.

Delicacy removes itself from tinted fingertips, webbing and clawing its way into thick, unblemished skin. You can feel your limbs no longer, and bones begin to crack and shred inside masses of muscle that you were becoming a stranger to. No longer are you avoiding what was meant to be.

With dim pupils still turned upwards, you become part of an unforgivable abyss you once called home, and you are no longer human.

You are no longer human, and you are so, so hungry.

You are no longer one entity, and you are once again part of the famine that created you. Why you had left, you do not recall. Why you have returned, you cannot remember.

Human extremities cease to exist in form and in memory. You are nothing more than what you are returning to.

Skin dissolves, reaching out and feathering, stretching the edges of your flesh and pulling out wretched shrieks; only the ocean can tell whether you are crying out in holy gratitude- or if you are screaming from hellish torment.

Even you yourself are not aware, and you need not be.

The ocean's fingers rip and sew at sickly human flesh, recreating it into a hollow vessel. Your skin is replaced and your veins are infected. You feel the arms of the ocean shielding you-- cocooning you.

You will not emerge a butterfly.

Warm blood dissolves into the ocean's tongue. As your skin is wiped away, muscle is replaced and bones are fixed. You hear a soft shush as the last stitches are put into place, but were you even making a sound to begin with?

Hard tissue grows from the roof of your mouth, clawing at the inner parts of your flesh, and puncture wounds appear on your evanesced lips.

At last, you surrender to malignant urges, gnashing and snarling at shadows.

It aches, it aches, it aches! Your body grasps at pointed instruments, begging for a neglectful parent to soothe the process of creation.

Foreign tongues finally whisper words of truth, stealing priceless naivety from your heart.

"This is how it feels to be born, child. This is how it feels to die."

This is the first thing you learn, and it will be the last.

You are not human, and you know this. You are not human, and you are so very hungry.

You are not human, and so the hunt begins.


End file.
